Mostar

The hostel I stayed at in Mostar was part of the "Balkan Backpackers", but after the awesome Franz Ferdinand with free eggs for breakfast I kind of had to get disappointed. So when I arrived, I already didn't feel like staying. Still I put my name on the list for a tour organized by the hostel, which is even recommended specifically in Lonely Planet.

Then I went to see the famous bridge of Mostar, which survived hundreds of years and two world wars, only to be destroyed in the 90s (it was rebuilt in the 00s). I wish I could tell you that it was breathtaking, but I wasn't really impressed. 

I went for a "cay", which turned out to be green nestea, and a tomato soup that probably came out of a can and was put in a microwave, waiting if I would see someone jump from the bridge. I didn't. I though of running away without paying because on top of all the service was terrible as well, but suddenly the grumpy waiter appeared again.

Oh, I also went for a short dip into the river that flows beneath the bridge. The more I think about how much trash I saw floating around in it, the more reasonable it seems to me that I might have gotten my stomach poisoned from the water that touched mouth. I mean, it wasn't super dirty like the Ganges, but it surely wasn't clean either :D (FYI, people swim in it all the time, it's not that I was the only one. But still..)

I left the old city again to join the free walking tour another girl had told me about. It was the worst tour I ever did, I'm not kidding. The guy talked while we were walking, so one could hardly understand him, and spent minutes on talking about how people used to live during Ottoman times, failing to explain how and when Ottomans even go here. I don't want to exaggerate, but I felt like he filtered out all the important information and left us with the little anecdotes that you tell in the end. The only interesting thing that happened was one of the guys jumping off the bridge. But I guess you can better watch that on YouTube...

Super frustrated I went back to the hostel and are something. In the meantime it got dark and I got tired, but I had to give this city one last try, so I went again.

The bridge was a bit more charming at nighttime, but I still don't understand how it could make it on the cover of Lonely Planet for Eastern Europe. Maybe it's the history then, of which I don't know anything, because the tour was so shitty :D

My evening still found a good end when I came across the small bridge that served as a model for the famous one, and a bar that had an excellent love band playing.

Nevertheless I felt like I had seen enough of this city, crossed my name off the tour list again, and headed to Žabljak, Montenegro, the next day.

Sarajevo

I hope you all remember how I was introduced to Sarajevo by TV chef Vjetko Kramer (if not, scroll down to find the post about it). So thanks to him, I was already very attached to this city when I checked into my hostel, the Balkan Han, one of the most famous and top rates hostels in town. 

Sadly, I didn't really enjoy the cars passing by our dorm window all day and all night, the kitchen was way too small for doing anything, the bathrooms were occupied all the time, and if they weren't, there was no toilet paper. 

I still enjoyed the city, wandering up and down the pedestrian lane most of the time, so that I spent another night at Franz Ferdinand Hostel, which was much nicer, much cleaner, closer to the city, and had aircondition and free breakfast for the exact same price. That made me considerably happy.

I also did a free walking tour run by Neno, a very charismatic and fun guy born and raised in Sarajevo. Recommendable!

(Viennese bakery-chain Aida - the waitresses were even wearing the same uniforms!!)

On the third day I finally made it to the "Jewish Museum of BiH", which is located inside the Sephardic Syagogue. To be honest, it was quite disappointing when you consider size and influence of the Jews in Bosnia before WWII. There's hardly any in-depth information on anything, although the man from the office was happy to answer questions. I don't remember how big the Jewish community used to be, but now they count around 600 members in the whole country. Neither the Sephardic nor the Ashkenazi Synagogue were destroyed but used as prison or for collecting people before deportation, and later as storage places.

The Askenazi Synagogue was only open for visitors until around 3, which I forgot constantly, so I only got to see it from outside.

Hitchhiking XIII (Mostar - Zabljak)

"I'm not sure if it's the warning west that I started wearing in Croatia or if the people in Bosnia are just so nice, but I again only waited for 10 minutes this morning until I got a ride out of Mostar. 

Soren, who is driving around all over BiH for a Belgian bakery (sadly not in my direction this time) took me for some kilometers until we reached the junction that leads to Trebinje, a small city near the border to Montenegro.

While I was taking my backpack out of the trunk, he saw a van driving by and miraculously stopped it by giving the driver a sign. Then he asked if the guy, who's name was Miran, was going to Trebinje - and yes he was! Never got a ride like this before :D"

So that was the mood today - until I got to Trebinje. Miran dropped me just at the border of the old city, so I thought I might as well have a quick lunch there. But you know how it is when you're hungry: suddenly all the places only serve drinks. 

When I finally found a way too fancy hotel to spend my last 7KM for an onion soup, I was already kind of grumpy for no very obvious reason - maybe it was the heat, or the fact that I had felt quite sick again when I had woken up in the morning.

The whole eating process took about an hour, then I started walking a kilometer or so out of the city to reach a junction. I couldn't resist the shadow there, even though it meant that I was less visible; I though the warn west would do it's job. But it didn't.

Cars kept passing by, and lots of people were signaling me that they were locals staying in the city. So after some time I gave up my shady place and walked a bit further - cars couldn't really stop there, so I continued walking until I reached a traffic light, and behind that, a bus station.

But people still didn't stop. 

Then a car from the other side of the road came to stop in the middle of the bus station, blocking all the space. Great. The guy sitting inside, apparently waiting for someone, didn't get my hateful glances. 

Then another car, now from the right direction, came to stop behind the first car. Trying my best smile, I asked the guy who got out if he was leaving the city - he shook his head. Great.

Now I had two cars standing in this shitting bus stop and really didn't know what I should do. I don't remember when I had been in such a desperate and annoyed mood. I just wanted to go home, have a shower, and get a decent night of sleep.

But in the end, after one hour that felt like a week, a car stopped - for me. I don't give a shit where he was going and just got in, trying my best to be a happy conversationalist. Slobodan luckily didn't speak a lot of English anyway, so there was not so much to talk. I think it was about 2pm by then, which doesn't sound too bad, but I still had a border to cross and lots if serpentines to conquer. You can imagine how I wasn't really excited when he stopped to have a coffee with me - not speaking a word of English. 

Politely I declined the invitation and hoped he'd finish with his coffee quickly. We started some kind of conversation with google translate, and he apparently tried to tell me that it would be better for me to continue hitchhiking from the place we were at instead of going with him, but I only unserstood that when I was burning in the sun some kilometers further up the hill. 

There was a bus station, yes. But there was no cars. At all.

Great.

Out of frustration I had a banana and some berries growing around me and my bus station, and considered my next steps. I could either stand here and count the number of cars driving in the wrong direction, or I could start walking up the hill and see if I make it to the border, which was about 5km uphill. 

Of course I went for the second option - I remember thinking that I'd at least earn my surely big frustration-dinner that way. Sweating all over and with an annoyingly hurting back I turned around from time to time, when cars were actually going my direction. 

I swear, I already saw myself walking across the border, but after "only" 15 minutes of hiking, Miro in his red Volkswagen, as I had seen them a thousand times while standing in Trebinje, stopped. He had a "don't drink and drive"-sign dangling down from his backmirror, so I trusted him immediately.

He didn't speak English either, but drove me across the border to Montenegro, where the guards would've waved us trough without even checking my papers, but Miro insisted to have my passport stamped. Who knows what this will be good for in the end haha.

Sadly he would only drive me until a junction after Vilusi, the second small settlement after the border. Cars couldn't really stop there, and I also didn't really want to stand anywhere, so I simply followed the road. One way or the other I'd arrive, right? And it was only 33km to the next gas station anyway!

Occasionally turning around when I heard cars going my direction, I walked an estimated 2 kilometers until I decided that I would find any better curve. When I had put my backpacks down I expected the worst, but again after less than 10 minutes a car stopped.

Dašan inside seemed nice, until he started talking about German girls and Montenegrin guys and caressing my legs. What the fuck dude. It took me four "NO! NOT OKAY!"s until he finally got it and then acted like nothing happened, asking me if I like Montenegro.

Well, I would've, if you hadn't ruined it from the beginning, stupid prick.

I knew I wouldn't succeed in explaining the bad impression he had made about his country, so I just signaled him that I wanted to be dropped at the bus station in Nicšić. 

As you know, buses are not part of the deal, but in this moment I really didn't feel like I could make the 70km that were left until Žabljak. Instead I got a ticket for 6€ (wtf?!) and a Cappucchino at the bus station, which lifted my mood for a short time, because the guy actually put chocolate syrup inside :)

This being the worst hitchhiking experience so far, I am now more sad and disappointed (and a bit disgusted) than frightened or shocked. I hate to write about incidents like these, because I don't want you to worry (hi Mama), but on the other side, sadly, this is really part of the deal.

Anyway in the end I arrived in the Hiker's Den in Žabljak, had an awesome shower and found some nice people to cook with. Tomorrow we'll go for the higher peak of Montenegro. Yay :)

Hitchhiking XII (Sarajevo - Mostar)

Getting to my spot out of Sarajevo was quite easy - a few steps away from amazing Franz Ferdinand Hostel I boarded a tram to Novo Sarajevo and got off at the second-final stop.

Here the street parted, and I had to improvise, sticking out my right thumb, while waving my other hand to the left, so that people would (hopefully) know that I wanted to go to Mostar.

Once again I was very surprised when Samir stopped only after 7 minutes of waiting and waving. He didn't speak a word of English, but was apparently driving in the right direction, so I got in. Our following 'conversation' was a perfect example how people can communicate without actually speaking the same language. Although I probably didn't even half of what Samir was trying to tell me, we had lots of fun.

At some point he announced that he would drive me to Mostar, even though he had been asking for the time before repeatedly, so I guess he missed an appointment or even work. But as son as this was decided, we seemed to have lots of time, and stopped twice to enjoy the view over the river flowing next to the street.

When we reached the borders of the city, he sadly ruined the whole experience by asking for sex. After proudly showing me a picture of his wife and telling me the names of his children. I mean....dude. Do I look like a hookrr to you? :D

Anyway, he accepted a no, kind of, haha, and I got dropped off almost in front of the hostel. Pros and cons of being a woman!